Covid, Round 2 & Last Call for McNeill's

This version of Covid is quite different. The first was coughy and deathlike. This one's been like a regular flu- ague; runny nose; crazy thirst; nothing stayed down - even water; full head; mouthbreathing. It's better today. I want to sleep but I'm slept out now. Yesterday was right off miserable. But figure this out- I started feeling sick on Saturday, but tested negative until today. Nothing is reliable anymore.

Much worse than my little illness is that our town lost an institution. McNeill's Brewery (aka Dewey's to oldtimers) 32 year-old community hang out, burned down on Friday night. Worse than that, Ray McNeill, founder and award-winning brewmeister, father and grandfather, went down with his ship.

Mc Neill's Burns, 1 Dead

With this tragedy, the old Brattleboro is gone to me. The many places I frequented back in the day are closed, or changed, or upscaled. We won't see another McNeill's, as we won't see another Mole's Eye, Frankie's Pizza, Sporty's, or Mike's. Change is inevitable. Tragic ends like this are hard to live with.

So farewell Dewey's, RIP Ray, see you on the other side.

I'm going to go light a candle for us all.

x

# 17 and Pie Day Friday Returns, At Last!

It looks like an organized, sane, non-histrionic personal assistant has appeared. She's mature, owns a cleaning biz, has 9 children and 3 grands, and we get on like a house on fire.

What a strange expression, why would clear communication and understanding be like a burning house?

My friends have kept me in groceries, and tomorrow Plague is coming to do laundry, watch Rings of Power and eat pizza with me. I would be dead without my friends.

Anyhow, #17 is the first solidly promising PA I've had since my Alicia left to have her second set of bairns. The eldest of those three is 4 already. Here are the littles.

 The youngest, just turning 1.

The middle and eldest, 3 and 4. Aren't they adorable little stinkers?

It snowed overnight, the first snow. Of course the predictors made a deal of it, inches and heaviness exaggerated for ratings and to satiate the drama-addicted. The reality is a sloppy inch of mush like any other first snow. It's defrosting already.

The holidays are looming ahead. Thanksgiving is a non event to me, but Pie Day Friday is returning and I'm looking forward to it. This year I'm making Maple Whiskey Walnut, and Blueberry. If anyone wants the recipe for the MWW, lemme know. It's like a pecan pie, but different.
 

There are 3 cartons of holiday gifts wrapped and ready to go under the tree. The only stuff left to get are for the far away that are easy to do- money to charities, a gift certificate to my brother, a set of earmuffs and gloves to my cousin. No big whoop. I'm about 3 weeks earlier than usual, and already getting antsy to haul out the holly. But it'll wait til #17 gives this place a real dusting and vacuuming. It'll be nice to breathe free again, to not see dust particles in every light beam, to wake up without a clogged nose and a headache. And then filling the clean front room with a bright tree, sparkling hoohahs, baked goodies and fancy chocolates, and carols playing. Seeing all the old decorations is dear and heartwarming to me. I love the holidays.

 A very happy Turkey Day to those observing, may we have peace and plenty in our lifetime.

x

It's All Weird to Me, and I'm a Wyrdo

By some oddness, all the testings and evaluations this year came back just fine. I'm not eating the 90% meat and dairy diet, because who can afford that now? But I rarely get carried away. I will, as traditional observance, be trashed thru the holidays. It starts with the tree trimming, and carries on until the Very Crompton Christmas. So a month or so of stupid and careless behavior, which is kept in check by my nonexistent ability to party these days. 

It's sad, I'm in bed with a book or movie by 8p and asleep long before 10. 

The latest startling revelation is that I'm turning into Aunt Audrey, who wasn't a blood relative, who looked like Audrey Hepburn, drank whiskey straight, and was a very bitter person.  She suffered no lie or stupidity in her presence. She put pins in balloons. She was called, behind her back, "bitchy". Yes, me too. 

If there were some way to stop myself, I would have by now. So I must be aspiring to be Audreyish on some level. Isn't constant self-analysis fun.

I truly don't mean to be bitchy. It really irks me when friends are drowning in needless stupidity or someone's lies that they believe. It didn't used to bother me.  Here and there I'd drop a terse bomb, and that was it. But over the years, it's fine tuned to dry, sarcastic know-it-all Audreyness. It's Sheldonesque, and boring, and somewhat mean. And that's all freaking weird.

Furtherly weird, I had to order wide glasses because this giant Viking head breaks readers that normal people wear.  3 pairs of readers in 6 months. Arms give out, lenses pop, frames crack apart. I have a huge head.

And here we are on a rainy, weirdly warm November 11th, Veterans Day, Armistice Day. 

It was t shirt weather today.  People were all "Isn't it great?" while I'm thinking, "This isn't November weather." 

Elections are hanging like the pit and the pendulum; who knows what will happen but my guts won't allow me to think about it. Hell, my guts won't allow me to drink 2 cups of coffee anymore.

We creep and crawl closer to the Herman movie, at so slow a pace, but I won't let it not happen.  Lots of sickness and elder issues among The Old Gang of Witches. Time is ticking and we've already said goodbye to 2 of the interviewed, Kaye Flagg and Jim Wasserman. I still can't believe they're gone. So yeah, this will be finished. Dammit.

And I still have no aide, so there's that. #17, where are you?

If you are a veteran, thank you and I'm sorry.

x

 

Good Times, Bad Times

 There is balance. But somehow it's not enough.

My eye doc says I'm still 20/20, 4 years later.

Aide #16 is done. I was to interview a possible #17 today, but they didn't show up or even call.

I despise being disabled. I hate having to depend on other people for stupid things like shopping, vacuuming, laundry, mopping... These are things that are making me silent and bitter. Nobody wants to hear it. I don't even want to say it, because what's the point? It's obvious this all sucks. So I don't talk about it. But then there's this here blog, where I've opened many veins over a decade and a half.

It's generally not easy getting old. I swear my body started falling apart at 30, when I saw my first arthritis specialist. But it's been a "slow fade" as my exboss The Meathead put on my disability form. And to end up in a wheelchair when in my dreams I still run... 

I loved to run.

I loved a lot of things, and a lot of things are gone.

My wise motherinlaw once said, "Life is a series of losses." Yes it is, Roz.

And so there's a lot of acceptance needed. Not crying and whining, just quiet acceptance. And with that acceptance is also the special acceptance annex of friends doing things I can't do.That isn't easy either. I'm a proud Brooklyn woman who was raised to be the charity giver, not the taker. It's a very different view on the other side. A lot to swallow.

With all that, it's a miracle I have several kind and caring friends who are eager to help out. And for that I'm truly grateful.

And now I'll shut up and not let myself get bitter.

x

.

 

 

Austanspace: the Final Frontier

So Musk has bought Twatter and is proceeding to stink up the place. Since he's become a MAGAt, it will no doubt become another MeWe, full of fascists and stupidity.  Well that's about it for social media. When it comes to the point that you have to give up personal info just to log into their craptastic site; when your 'free speech' is threatened and subject to approval by, and privately owned by, some rich freak, screw it. I intend to treat it as it deserves. hehehe

Okie cousin was here, sparkles and spandex and very much like Meemaw on "Young Sheldon" but with a platinum page boy. There was much "getting to know you" since we had 6 days and nobody came out with her. I may go into detail at some point, but we have more in common than we knew.

Halloween is Monday, Samhain following. It's like this last month folded  and reopened a couple weeks later. This year I'm dressing up as the elderly Luna Lovegood. still in her Ravenclaw robes, her wild blonde hair and weird earrings flying.